


Something Borrowed

by kissesfromkrug



Series: 5 + 1 [4]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Language, M/M, Montreal Canadiens, Pre-Slash, Stealing, Teasing, Wearing the Others Clothes
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-05-15
Updated: 2017-05-15
Packaged: 2018-11-01 07:19:23
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10917024
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kissesfromkrug/pseuds/kissesfromkrug
Summary: “No!” Alex shouts before Gally can even get a word in. “You will not take one more of my things!”





	Something Borrowed

**Author's Note:**

> Not for profit, probably all fictitious, edit my mistakes. :)

•1•

“Are…are those my socks?” Alex asks confusedly as Gally pulls on one of his shoes. 

“Yeah. So?”

“Why _my_ socks on _your_ feet _?_ ” Gally shrugs, covering the other up with his shiny brown shoe. 

“What can I say? I like this color.” He stands up and straightens his suit jacket so it’s flat against his built chest. Alex’s throat bobs as he stares unashamedly. 

“Wash them before you give them back,” he calls after Gally. “Your feet smell like shit!”

“Got it, Russkie!” Alex groans aloud as Marky laughs. 

“ _You should just change your birth certificate so it says you were born in Russia and you won’t have to argue with him about it_ ,” he says. “ _If he does that as long as you two play together, you’ll go fucking insane. I know_ I _would._ ” 

“ _But I am not Russian! Zero percent! I am Belarusian!”_ Marky sighs and shakes his head. 

“ _Fine. Just don’t argue with him about it in front of everyone._ ” Alex makes another frustrated sound as he throws his jacket on over his shoulders. 

“ _I can’t help it.”_

_“Well, you’re going to have to learn.”_

•2•

“How do I look?” Gally asks proudly. Alex frowns, noting something familiar about his outfit. 

“I did not know…I not know we are same shoe size, _Gallagher_ ,” he says, anger beginning to creep into his tone. “Socks to share are okay, I guess, but shoes? No. _Nyet._ No fucking way.”

“What? Why? They’re the only things that go with this tie.” Gally grins as he tugs on the silky, colorful fabric. 

“I sure you have more things to go with it than _my_ shoes,” Alex huffs. “Give them back and you get your own.”

“But I don’t wanna!” He whines playfully, laughing as Alex rolls his eyes. “Why should I buy my own when I can borrow yours for free, o grateful donor of clothing?” Alex bites his lip and turns away, shaking his head several times. “Come on, Chuck, it doesn’t matter _that_ much, does it?”

“Give them back.”

“Oh, did your special _someone_ buy these for you, Chucky, huh?” Gally seems a little colder than usual, and Alex looks back to see that his smile has vanished. “If it really means _that_ much to you, then by all fucking means, take your goddamn shoes.”

“Shut the fuck up and keep the shoes, I buy new ones later,” Alex mumbles as he retreats into his bedroom to find a pair of shoes that’ll match his own outfit. He’s going through his _own_ closet, mind you. Not anyone else’s. 

•3•

“ _I fucking swear_ ,” Alex mutters under his breath as he sees Gally sit in front of the camera— _wearing his t-shirt._ There’s no way anyone couldn’t tell it was his; the number and _Belarusian_ last name (he’s _not_ Russian, thank you very much) are clearly printed in block letters across the back. “I going to wear his shirt too?” He asks the photographers, who grin and nod. 

“Change quickly, we gotta be outta here in 20 minutes.” Gally smirks to himself as Alex grumbles about it the whole way there and back. He doesn’t need to know it was all Gally’s plan. 

Gally chortles as he sees Alex grumpily emerge in a #11 shirt and matching fluffy hat. “You look good in my number, Chuck,” he laughs. Alex can’t help but blush as he sits down, ignoring his teases. “Come on, aren’t you gonna tell me I should always wear #27?”

“People would wonder why #27 not as good as always,” he shoots back. “Maybe if I wear #11, #11 will get many more goals than he used to.” The photographers laugh, but Gally only laughs with them. 

“I bet I’d sell way more #27’s with this beaut behind the visor.” He points to his face, but Alex just turns away. “No hard feelings; I just got a better mug than you, I guess.”

“Fuck off,” he spits, “Can we start this thing now or what?”

“Yeah, yeah, we’re going,” the cameraman laughs. Alex tries to ignore how big and warm Gally’s hand is as it latches onto his shoulder, unable to force the flush off his cheeks in time. He swears quietly in Russian as one of the photographers points it out.

•4•

“Chuck, can I borrow that Christmas tie Prusty bought you?” Gally calls down the hallway.

“No!”

“But why?” Within seconds, Gally appears in Alex’s doorway with his puppy-dog eyes in full force.

“Because it is…” He trails off, unable to tear his eyes away. “It, uh…it is mine?”

“But I promise I’ll give it back, I _promise_!” Gally sticks out his lower lip, and Alex can’t help but notice how pink and wet it is. “Please, Chucky?”

“Fine.” Alex rummages through the top drawer of his dresser, throwing the tie at his jovial teammate. Gally pumps his fist and darts back to his own room faster than Alex can force him to say thank you. “ _Little fucker_ ,” he mutters as he finishes buttoning up his cream-colored dress shirt.

“Can I also have a—“

“No!” Alex shouts before Gally can even get a word in. “You will not take one more of my things!”

“But why not?” He whines back, and Alex growls softly.

“You want more clothes, you buy them, you do not take mine!”

“But you always find the best stuff!” Alex shrugs as he tightens and straightens his dark blue tie in his floor length mirror.

“Sucks for you.”

•5•

Alex is beyond pissed when he opens the front door to see Gally smiling broadly. The fact that he’s smiling isn’t unusual, but he quickly notices the jacket and hat as belonging to himself. “I swear to God—” he starts, but Gally interjects, 

“Don’t you love it?” He chirps gleefully, spinning on a heel and posing. 

“No.” 

“But Chuck, doesn’t this fit me perfectly?” He tugs on the collar of the jacket, and Alex swallows as his eyes travel over the leather tightly stretched over Gally’s thick shoulders and upper arms. 

“No. Is too tight,” he finally gets out through clenched teeth. “I kill you if you take one more of my clothes, I swear.” 

“Aww, Chuck, but you couldn’t live without me,” Gally smirks, leaning in close. Alex bites the inside of his cheek at the closeness, but he shoves Gally away nonetheless. 

“Fuck you, _Brendan,_ I hate you.” Well, _that's_ a flat out lie.

“Sure you do.” Gally tugs on his hand, and it’s only when they arrive at a snow-covered clearing that Alex realizes that Gally stole his gloves too. He ignores the way his heart does triple flips as their fingers interlock, wondering if that was Brendan’s plan. 

•+1•

“These are too fucking long,” Gally murmurs to himself, hiking the pants up to his waist and tightening the belt a bit. “And a little too tight too…” He turns sideways in the mirror and runs a hand down his ass.

Oh well. Chuck won’t mind.

He tucks in his shirt and throws on a suit jacket—also not his—to finish the professional look. A winter coat also seems to be necessary with all the snow outside. 

Gally quickly ties his shoes before striding out into the hallway and banging on Alex’s door. “Chucky, we’re gonna be late!” 

“Fuck off!”

“I’m serious, Chuck, let’s go!” There’s no response, so as he puts on his beanie he sing-songs, “I won’t be your chauffeur today _and_ you won’t get to sit next to me at dinner!” 

“Like I care!” Gally shrugs and goes down the stairs to start up the car, and within a minute he sees Alex running out without a coat or hat. He stares as Alex fumbles to buckle up, shoving on a hat over his snowflake-covered hair. “Go!”

“Jesus fuck, Chucky, I’m not the one that was gonna make us late,” Gally laughs. 

“You make us late every other time,” Alex grumbles, folding his arms over his chest. The Canadian just shakes his head and laughs, and Alex glances over at him and notices something about his outfit. 

“Is that—” 

“Nope.” Gally doesn’t even wait for him to finish. “Mine.”

When they arrive, Alex takes his time getting out of the car and follows Gally into the restaurant. Gally takes off his long winter coat as they walk to their table, and Alex’s eyes are immediately drawn to his ass. Those pants look _really_ familiar, not to mention the way he looks in them makes Alex just want to unashamedly grope—

“Like what you see?” Gally smirks, still a few yards from the table as he watches his teammate closely. Right. They’re _teammates,_ and teammates don’t _ever_ fuck around…right? Alex tries to convince himself to stay calm, instead choking out, 

“Yeah.” 

“Like you’d—fucking— _what_?” 

“ _It’s hot,_ ” Alex says simply in a low voice as they approach the table. Well, he _thought_ he was quiet enough, although the look he’s getting from Marky isn’t helping him. Oh fuck. 

“Wh-what?” 

“Nice _pants_.” Alex looks Gally up and down with dark eyes, and the look on the Canadian’s face is enough to get the hot feeling in Alex's stomach simmering to life, his dick beginning to take interest. Dinner’s going to be hell like this. 


End file.
